


Angels

by cat_tier



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 8x23, Coda, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Season Finale, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-19
Updated: 2013-05-19
Packaged: 2017-12-12 08:34:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/809517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cat_tier/pseuds/cat_tier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Emotions,</i> Castiel thought, <i>are one of humanity's greatest gifts alongside free will.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Angels

**Author's Note:**

> This is a coda to 8x23, and is set straight after the episode ended. The title comes from the song _Angels_ by _The xx,_ which I guess is pretty fitting and also one of my favourite songs. I suggest you go listen to it if you haven’t already, because it basically inspired me to write this.

Angels were falling, and Castiel felt so much.

Castiel had been around for a very long time, and in that time, he had seen so many things, participated in so many events, and watched men as they evolved and grew and _changed_. However, he had never felt emotions such as this. Saying that, Castiel had never felt emotions full stop. At least, not to this extent.

There had been a time where Castiel had fallen, and when he thought back, it hadn’t been at all pleasant. The first time he fell, it was gradual, and it had happened over many months. In some ways, Castiel hadn’t even noticed his slow descent into humanity. As an angel, emotions were foreign to him, so when they started to appear, just at the edge of his senses, the falling angel had hardly noticed.

Of course, that had all changed very swiftly. As Castiel recalled, it had only taken one sip of that intoxicating beverage, and he had fallen into its trap. Many a time, Castiel had sat back and observed as Dean drank himself into an oblivious bliss, away from the pain of the apocalypse and everything in-between.  Castiel had watched, and of course, he had learned. So, when he drank that first drink, he knew alcohol was a way out, and a way to forget his failure in his search for God.

This time, it was so much different. One moment, Castiel was strapped into the disgustingly white dentist’s chair with Metatron’s hand on his forehead, and the next he was blinking open his eyes to a sky of darkness.

That darkness had not lasted long, for as soon as Castiel found his feet, he stumbled out of the woods where he had stopped and stood, eyes fixed to the sky.

Castiel knew as saw as he set eyes upon the millions of gleaming beams of light in the sky that his brothers and sisters were falling to earth, destined to walk among humans, just as Metatron and Naomi had said.

The fallen angel’s eyes had begun to water then, and a terrible clenching pain started at his chest and proceeded to move up and down his body, pulling at his heart, his stomach, and his throat. Castiel was drowning.

He suspected, then, that this was what Dean and Sam had felt for all of these years. After another one of their friends fell to the ground, their bodies limp and lifeless, it must have been this strange, _terrible_ sensation that engulfed their bodies and made the Winchesters recede into themselves. For all that time, Castiel had never understood. He had been an angel, and angels did not feel what humans felt. They were warriors of God, and they did not have time for petty things like sadness, guilt, confusion, and of course, love.

As Castiel stared up at that sky, watching his brothers and sisters plummet to the ground, his life flashed before his eyes. Thousands of years, watching animals, watching humans, watching and waiting, and it had all burned down to this.

A new emotion bloomed in the former angel’s chest this time. It was an emotion that filled him up, leaving no sadness, only the need for _something_ which he couldn’t quite pin-point. _Anger,_ Castiel thought, _is what humans must refer to this feeling as._

 _How do humans deal with all of these contradicting emotions?_ He thought, still gazing up at the painfully beautiful sky, his eyes becoming clouded with tears.

 _Emotions,_ Castiel thought wistfully, _are a human’s most precious gift alongside freewill._

\--

Dean did just what he always did after something had gone to shit; he drove.

They could deal with this, Dean told himself, because it had happened before, and they would pull through. Just like they always did.

It didn’t matter that his brother was dying in the passenger seat, because Sam would be okay, and Dean would make sure of that. He wouldn’t die; especially not after Dean had worked so hard and _given up so much_ to save him.

Then again, saving his brother would always come before saving the world. Family was all they had, and all they would ever need, so there was no way Dean was losing the only family he had left.

_Family._

The word brought back memories of the crypt with Cas, and the fight, which he still hadn’t told Sam about. Ignorance was bliss, in Dean’s opinion.

After Cas had healed him, he had just left. There had been no goodbye, or no explanation, apart from the fact he had been controlled by Naomi. Dean had said things in that crypt, he had bared his soul in some ways, and Castiel had just left.

 _If he had just waited,_ Dean thought, _we would have been able to work it out. We would have even possibly been able to stop Metatron or Naomi or who the hell ever was controlling this ship at the moment._

And now Castiel was God knows where, or for all Dean knew, he was plummeting from the sky at this very moment. Dean didn’t even want to consider the idea that Cas might even be dead.

He wanted to at least say goodbye.

“How you doing over there, Sammy?” Dean said gruffly, pressing his foot down on the accelerator. They had a lot of miles to cover if they wanted to get back to the bat cave. Dean had wanted to get his brother straight to the nearest hospital, but Sam insisted they wouldn’t be able to help him, and that he was better off at home, in a place they knew.

Dean had grudgingly agreed.

“The pain’s a bit better, so I guess it’s good I don’t feel like I’m dying anymore, right?” Sam huffed a short laugh, wincing as the pain made another appearance.

“You just hold still, okay? We’ll get you back, and I’ll make you some food and you can sleep it off.”

He kept his eyes to the road as he drove, unable to look Sam in the eye. He didn’t want to acknowledge what they had just seen, and as long as Sam didn’t bring it up, Dean was completely fine with not mentioning it.

“It’ll be okay, you know that right?” Sam said quietly - his voice scratchy and broken - a few miles later.

“It’s gonna be okay, Sam. It always is,” Dean said, quiet and void of emotion.

A voice at the back of his mind said, _no, it’s not going to be okay._

\--

Castiel had been to heaven, hell, purgatory and every corner of the earth. But, as Castiel walked down the long, open road, still watching the sky and the last remaining angels as they fell, the only thing his mind was Dean Winchester.

The night where Castiel had first touched the angel tablet and broken the connection was one of the most distinct memories, and he remembered every word that was said. Dean had said told Cas, for the second or third time, that Castiel was family. He had said, “I need you,” and Castiel had dropped his blade, sending it clattering to the floor with a sharp sound.

If someone had told him, right then, to name one time in his life that he felt emotion, it would have been then. Even as an angel, seeing Dean beaten and bloody in front of him had stirred so many foreign feelings inside of Castiel, but he just pushed them away. Castiel could pick out the fact that one was guilt, whilst another was sadness. There was one more, that Castiel remembered had been stronger than the rest, whilst also the most unsure. Something told him he would learn about that feeling. But not yet; he wasn’t ready yet.

Right now, all Castiel needed to do was get to the Winchesters. He needed to get back to the bunker, and he needed to make sure the brothers were unharmed. He needed to tell them everything, and make them understand.

He needed to see Dean.

However, being a mortal seemed to desire certain things of him, such as the ache in his legs, and all of the controversy between his newfound emotions which made his steps heavier and his eyes droop. There was also the matter of thirst, which seemed to linger around the edges, increasing with each minute that passed.

Castiel didn’t know where he was going, or why he was going to the Winchesters, but he knew if he could find civilisation, he would be able to borrow somebody’s phone and dial Dean’s number, which was somehow imprinted into his brain. Maybe Metatron had left that certain piece of information on purpose, but Castiel just thought that maybe he was good at remembering.

It was a good skill to have, especially if he was truly a human now.

\--

“Here we are, come on, let’s get you inside,” Dean said, hooking his arms under Sam’s armpits to haul him to his feet. Dean set one of his brother’s arms around his own shoulders, and half walked, half dragged Sam into and past the door of the bat cave.

To his surprise, and familiar face greeted them.

“Dean? Sam? Is that you?” Kevin peered around the corner which lead to the library, his backpack slung over one shoulder. He looked tired, panicked and worn out.

“Why are you still here?” Dean exclaimed, eyeballing him whilst he manoeuvred Sam through to his room with much difficulty, which resulted in a couple of smashed glasses and tipping over a lamp.

“Things started happening, lights were flashing and- I just thought I should stay,” Kevin slumped down on a chair, rubbing at his eyes. When Dean returned from Sam’s bedroom, he took a moment to just _look_ at the kid.

And damn, he looked wrecked, but on the other hand, they probably all did.

“It’s probably for the best,” Dean muttered gruffly, patting Kevin on the shoulder once in a shaky resemblance to reassurance. Letting out a sigh, Dean made a bee-line for the liquor and poured himself a glass.

“What happened?” The prophet asked after a long moment of heavy silence.

“A lot of shit happened.”

“I guessed as much,” Kevin stared down at the table in front of him, his voice clipped and weary.

“It’ll be okay, me and Sam will figure it out, and it’ll turn out just fine, remember that,” Dean replied, his voice low with a fake assurance.

When Dean next turned around, after finishing his glass of whiskey, Kevin had slipped away, his backpack abandoned next to the chair, and Dean just stared into his empty glass.

 _This has happened before_ , he thought grimly, _so why is it so different this time around?_

Maybe, Dean supposed, it was the fact that _no one_ was saved. Usually, they managed at least to do something right, but now here Dean was, in a world full of fallen angels and a king of hell who was already half human. His brother was dying, his angel- his _fallen_ angel- was probably dead too, and Dean had absolutely no idea how they were going to fix this one.

Dean had lost so much, and when Sam had said that maybe this was one they couldn’t win, Dean couldn’t help feeling like he should have listened.

\--

A shrill noise broke Dean out of his fractured slumber, making him jerk upright. The bunker was now completely dark, apart from one light in the corner of the room. He had fallen asleep in a chair, whilst watching and waiting and thinking and doing everything that Dean usually avoided. Now, his phone vibrated noisily against the cold hard surface of the table, and Dean peered over, frowning at the unknown number.

He picked it up, pressed answer, and fearing the worst, said, “hello?”

“Dean.”

It was like a wave. Dean went from feeling so little, from feeling everything. It was a weight lifted off his shoulders, and hearing his own name had never brought him as much solace as it did now.

“Cas,” he murmured, voice shaky and unsure. The word held a question, along with a demand and just plain gratitude for Castiel being alive. “I thought you were-“

“I’m not, Dean, I’m alive,” came the deep, familiar rumble of Cas’s voice from the other end of the line.

“Are you-?” Dean broke off, unable to say the word _fallen._ A strange part of him remembered the time Castiel had woken up in hospital, completely human, and called Dean, informing him of that fact. Apparently, history had a tendency to repeat itself.

“I stood in the clearing of a wood, watching my brothers and sisters fall to earth. Yes Dean, I am human, and-“ Castiel broke off, voice wavering and Dean inhaled sharply. “I don’t know what to do.”

“I’m coming to get you,” Dean said without a second thought. “Where are you?”

“I think I’m near,” Castiel rumbled, and gave Dean his location.

Much to Dean’s surprise, Cas had landed – if that was how he had fallen – nearby and it would take Dean under two hours to reach him. Dean couldn’t help but wonder if it was a coincidence.

“What about Sam?” Castiel asked, just before Dean was going to hang up. It made him stop, just for a moment, and think. It was around four in the morning, and Sam would undoubtedly sleep for at least another five hours in his state. If Dean locked the bunker down and made sure nothing but could get in or out but Dean, he would be able to go and pick Castiel up.

“He’ll be fine.”

And so, Dean grabbed his keys and he was off.

\--

Seeing Dean was a shock.

It had been around four or five hours since Castiel woke up on the ground, just as human as every one of the people he had watched for thousands of years, and in that time, he had thought about Dean a great deal.

Seeing him in the flesh was surprising to Castiel, and for some unknown reason that strange, clinging feeling returned, pulling at his insides and twisting everything into knots. It was uncomfortable and hard to deal with, yet the longing which accompanied it made Castiel feel faintly light-hearted and dizzy.

For the second time in his life, Castiel felt fear, and everything came crashing down. When he saw Dean’s face and those recognizable green eyes – now dim with sleep deprivation and confusion – Castiel remembered what he had done, and how it was his entire fault.

Castiel didn’t know how that central piece of information had slipped his mind, but watching one’s family fall from the sky would most probably do that to someone.

The vital piece of information was the fact that Castiel had trusted Metatron, which meant he was to blame for all of this, and suddenly he couldn’t take it anymore. A new sensation overtook him, one considerably more powerful than the others he had experienced so far, and Castiel surged forward.

Dean was surprised, to say the least, when the former angel fell forward into his arms, clinging to his jacket like it was all he had left, but he didn’t think twice about reaching his arms around Castiel and holding him.

The hunter and the fallen angel stood next to the deserted gas-station, alone and together.

They stood there for a long time, just feeling and _being_ , which was an entirely new sense to Castiel, but comfortable nonetheless.

The sun began to rise, and Castiel watched it from over Dean’s shoulder. He breathed in once, and then breathed out, watching as the new day arose in front of their eyes.

“It’s gonna be okay, Cas, I promise."

“I know.”

\--

They didn’t speak about that moment outside the gas-station, and neither did Dean ask about Castiel’s newfound humanity, or how it had happened. Cas didn’t ask how Dean was feeling, or if Sam was okay. They travelled the whole two and a half hours in silence. Dean watched the road, while Castiel watched the sun and just _felt_ all of the feelings that swirled in his body.

It was overwhelming, but he felt strangely calm.

When Dean pulled the Impala up outside the bunker, Castiel watched as Dean visibly relaxed. Everything was just how it had been when he left, and there were no signs of a struggle, or demon activity, or anything of that kind. It was a normal morning in spring, and Dean let out a sigh of relief.

“Have you eaten anything in that whole time?” Dean asked, and Castiel shook his head. A kind woman from the small town he had arrived in had offered Castiel a drink, however, and he also took advantage of the phone she had in her house. After that, Castiel just left the small house in order to wait for Dean.

He hadn’t learned human manners yet, so why try now? He was too tired, and it was all too much.

“Well, I’ll cook you up something then,” Dean shot him a soft, weary smile. Castiel just stared.

\--

 _The bunker was exactly the same_ , Castiel thought as he sat the end of Dean’s bed, waiting for Dean to return with the food.

When they got inside, Dean had basically pushed him down on the bed and insisted he stay there and not move until Dean came back with sustenance that would “make him feel much better.”

There was a small pile of neatly folded clothes sitting next to Castiel which Dean had placed there; saying “put these on.”

Castiel stood, and began to take off his clothes. It was a new step for him, but that didn’t come as a shock anymore. Castiel was learning new things about becoming human every minute, and he didn’t have time to be inundated by shock and confusion anymore. He had to push on, just like the Winchesters and every other human in the world did.

He shed the trench coat first, letting it fall to the floor with a flutter of fabric. He took off the suit jacket next, which was followed by the slacks and undershirt. Once he was completely naked, Castiel picked up the first piece of clothing on the pile and, once he saw it was an old faded top of Dean’s, he slipped it over his head. Next, Dean had given him a pair of his old, faded jeans, which Castiel pulled up his legs and over his hips, ignoring the unfamiliar pull of denim against his now-sensitive legs.

By the time Dean returned with a tray of food and a tall glass of water, Castiel was perched on the side of the bed again, picking at the hem of Dean’s top which lay gently against his skin.

“How is Sam?” Castiel asked, looking up at the man standing above him, still balancing the tray.

Dean set it down carefully, next to the typewriter and the picture of Mary and Sam.

“He’s sleeping,” he replied, avoiding Castiel’s questioning gaze. Cas nodded in reply, dropping his eyes towards his bare feet that felt strangely cold.

“What about you? How are you feeling?” Dean asked, leaving the tray of food and sitting down on the bed next to Castiel.

Castiel blinked, noting the fact that they still had an adequate amount of space between them, which was oddly reassuring. The pulling feeling returned, just as Castiel had suspected it would, but this time he just ignored it.

“Dean-“ the fallen angel started, but his voice wavered and cracked off. He coughed once, and tried again. “I watched them fall.”

“What happened, Cas? I thought you were dead.”

“I think that may have been a more sufficient path for me to have taken,” Castiel murmured, mostly to himself, but he couldn’t overlook the sharp intake of breath that followed.

“How could you say that?” Dean erupted, his voice raising and bordering on angry. Castiel flinched, focusing his gaze on the floor yet again.

“It was my fault Dean, I did this,” he muttered, fingers toying with a rip in his borrowed jeans. “I told you, just before Sam started the final trial, that I couldn’t lose this time, but I did. I failed, and now my family are _walking the earth_ and I am graceless and rendered completely useless. I’m not an angel anymore, so what can I do? What help am I in this state? I’ve tried so hard to make it right, but I just can’t seem to save a single person,” Castiel’s voice was breaking, and he felt the emotion from earlier arise again. Sadness, guilt, and a lack of hope, to name a few. Castiel turned his sharp, sad gaze to Dean and found the hunter’s eyes blazing with a thousand things Castiel couldn’t name. Fear might have been one, and maybe anger. Again, though, there was that unknown emotion which echoed the one pulling at Castiel’s insides. 

“You’re not helpless,” Dean said quietly after a thick moment of silence. His voice was deep and gruff, and it sounded like home. “And you’ll always be my angel.”

Strong arms wrapped around Castiel’s shoulders, and pulled him forward, into a comforting embrace, and there was nothing the former angel could do to resist the urge to lean forward, into the heat and the smell of protection.

“You saved _me_ , Cas,” said Dean when they finally pulled back. With all the unspoken words apparent on Dean’s face, Castiel knew exactly what he meant.

“I know,” Castiel replied, a small smile pulling at his lips. Another new experience to add to Castiel’s list, and maybe this time it was a good one.

Dean was only inches away from Castiel, and he could still smell Dean’s deep musky scent of pine, warmth and comfort.

He thought, as Dean leaned closer and closed the inches between them, that maybe the pulling feeling wasn’t so unpleasant after all, and maybe it wasn’t so unfamiliar either. Perhaps it had actually been there all along.

He grasped at Dean’s shirt as Dean pressed his soft, warm lips against Castiel’s own, and in return, Dean held Castiel close.

 _Love,_ Castiel thought, _was one of humanity’s biggest gifts._

And Dean and Castiel had forever to figure it out. 


End file.
